


Give Him Power

by Myalpha



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (also not really alphas all around - just those ones I promise), Alpha!Stiles, Alphas all around!, Angst, Canonical major character death, Fork-in-the-road!AU, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, alpha pack, alpha!Derek, alpha!Scott, au after s3e7 'Currents'.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:38:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myalpha/pseuds/Myalpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both Scott and Stiles come into supernatural powers they didn't know they possessed. Scott is obviously the 'True Alpha', and Stiles... well Stiles is something too.</p><p>But when Scott goes off with Deucalion, seeing no other way to resolve their conflict with the powerful enemy, Stiles ends up struggling alone to unite two uncooperative factions, all the while struggling to get a handle on his own burgeoning abilities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Him Power

**Author's Note:**

> This fic all started with me seeing [this image](http://lehuss.deviantart.com/art/Hunters-144455957) thinking - "no but stiles would look really goddamn sexy in this picture - and what if the wolves were Scott and Derek" and somehow it morphed into a really long fanfic.
> 
> I got the name from a quote by Abraham Lincoln: “Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power.”
> 
> This fic is going to be my NaNoWriMo for the year (I originally had other plans, but can't focus on them while this plot-bunny is still stuck in my head), so expect it to be updated fairly frequently.

All four of them knew they were on the clock, losing time, and in danger of failing to stop the Darach's plans – and worse, in danger of failing to find Deaton alive.

Stiles found himself huddled around the steel operating table with Cora, Lydia and Scott, frantically spreading out the maps they had stolen from Chris Argent and from Danny. Stiles' hands were clumsy and graceless in their haste to smooth out the papers, but eventually he had them positioned on the table for everyone to see. He knew they barely had any time at all locate Deaton before it was too late. It had been so long already, he was beginning to force himself to recognise there was no guarantee it wasn't already too late for the veterenarian-slash-druid.'

Stiles quickly gave them the run-down on what exactly telluric currents where, and how combining Danny's research with chris' map could narrow down the search area.

“You said there's six more bodies.” Stiles said eventually, more a musing than a question, “Deaton's one of them”. He marks out the veterenary surgery. From which Deaton was taken, at the start of a telluric current, he then follows the wave of the current through the town, marking off the other end as the location in which Deaton's body is to be found. “Gotta be somewhere in between, right?” Stiles asks rhetorically, moving the pen along the map once more in search of somewhere in between where the sacrifice should theoretically take place.

“Stop!” Cora said softly but firmly, placing her hand over Stiles' and guiding the movements of the pen he was clutching.

The second Cora positioned Stiles' hand over the location of the abandoned Beacon Hills First National Bank on the map, every person in the room instinctively knew Deaton couldn't possibly be anywhere else.

“He's in the vault,” Cora said, a strange mix of shock and determination in her tone, 'he's in the same vault.”

It was kind of grimly poetic,, Stiles thought, too much so to be coincidental. Stiles guessed the darach must intend for it to be some kind of taunt or statement, but he knew he didn't have the information required to work out exactly what kind of statement they were trying to make by it.

Stiles was mentally kicking himself for not insisting someone check the bank vault earlier. He would wager good money that at least one of the others was feeling the same way as well, judging by the looks in their eyes. The stillness didn't last more than a second, however, because the next second everything was a flurry of action – like every person in the room instinctively knew what they had to do. Stiles frantically gathered up the books, maps and papers which were scattered all over Deaton's stainless-steel operating table, piling them into his arms while simultaneously lurching towards the exit, aware of Lydia doing exactly the same right beside him.

Scott was already standing in the doorway when they all noticed Cora freeze upon receiving a message, clutching her phone in her hand. She looked ever so sightly shaken, Stiles thought, or at least as shaken as it was possible for a Hale to look given that stubbornness and false bravado seemed to run in their blood.

“Its Boyd. Their plan didn't work. They cut the power.” Cora said, looking shaken.

Derek was in danger, and the plan to defeat the Alphas, who were on their way to attack him, was failing.

Lydia turns to Stiles, looking for an indication of what they should do next. Stiles knows it makes sense for her to look to him, because after all he was the one with the plan and information in the first place, he's well aware of that fact. But at the same time, he knows how important Deaton is to Scott – the closest thing to a father-figure these days really – and he knows that Scott needs to be the one to make this call. Stiles can't be the one to put someone else's loved ones on the line without even getting their approval. He can't be responsible for someone else's death, even if he believes it would never come to that. It would be risking too much, for Stiles, to change the plan and make a call that could get someone so close to Scott killed.

“Its just like he said” Scott mumbled to himself, before ordering out loud:“Go! I can save Deaton myself”.

“Wha... Scott. What about us?” Stiles tried to argue back, torn between supporting Scott and supporting Derek and his pack. But at the same time Stiles mentally breathes a sigh of relief, because he knows instinctively that Scott can handle rescuing Deaton, just like he knows instinctively that Derek needs all the help he can get. After all, Scott is just on a rescue mission, Derek is in all-out war with the Alpha pack supported only by two betas.

“Cora can't get there fast enough without you” Scott replied, quashing the last of Stiles' indecision. “Go! We can save both of them!” He ordered, a painfully optimistic glimmer in his eye.

And immediately, almost before Stiles could register it, Scott is out of the clinic and starting up his motorbike in the dark alley outside, leaving Stiles in charge.

“Alright lets go” Stiles calls out, holding up his free arm, papers still balanced in the other, and gesturing towards the exit.

\- - -

The ride over in the Jeep was quiet and tense. Stiles was too anxious to bother filling the awkward silence with babble like he would usually be inclined to do, instead letting his mind wander. As for the others, Stiles still wasn't totally convinced Lydia even liked talking to either of them full-stop, and Cora wasn't known for her sparkling conversation even on the best of days.

Stiles would have secretly believed terse silence was a requirement of being a Hale, if not for Peter and his complete inability to shut the hell up most of the time. On second thought, Stiles mused, if Hale personalities were a choice between 'conversational ability of a rock' and 'creepy stalker with no boundaries', Derek and Cora had made the right choice after all.

But still, the stony silence permeated the car with an almost palpable feeling of tension and nervousness, and Stiles thought the journey couldn't pass quickly enough. And just maybe, his eagerness to reach their destination wasn't merely to alleviate the awkward silence. Just maybe, he might be a little worried about Boyd, Isaac and Derek too.

He gripped the steering wheel of his jeep even tighter, and steeled himself for the longest few minutes of his life.

\- - -

They reach the gloomy apartment block in record time, in complete defiance of how long the journey actually felt to Stiles – and possibly also in complete defiance of several traffic laws, stop signs and speed limits... Stiles was really kind of hazy on the whole thing, and definitely couldn't have vouched for his driving ability right then.

“Has Derek ever considered living somewhere that doesn't look completely abandoned?” Stiles muttered under his breath as he pulled the jeep up parallel to the kerb outside the building, feeling some of the tension in his bones melt away the closer he got to Derek's apartment.“I mean, first the burnt-out family home, then the abandoned transit station, and now this... really?!”, he continued, incredulous. It wasn't terribly tall, for an apartment building at least, looking more like a massive, converted factory than a conventional unit block. Stiles would have hazarded a guess that the bricks were red, but the outside of the building was so darkened – lit only by a single street light – that it was impossible to tell for certain.

Cora hurried them around the side of the building, into an alleyway and through a heavy wooden side door. Inside, Stiles could make out what resembled a set of internal fire escape stairs, all grey cinderblock and minimal lighting with no external windows.

“Come on!” Cora snapped back at them, already half way down to the basement.

Stiles made a sneering face at her back. Not everyone has werewolf speed, dammit.

“Okay what do we do” Stiles asked as he bolted through the, mercifully unlocked, electrical room door at the bottom of the flight of stairs. The room was dark and small. The walls were grey concrete cinderblock, and the only light came from the emergency lighting in the stairwell – sickly electric lighting setting Stiles' eyes on edge.

The right-hand wall was lined with a large bank of circuit breakers. Stiles stopped short, not really sure of what he is supposed to do to them to restart the power. Cora and Lydia were right behind him, pushing past him, and Cora was still taking charge of the situation.

“We pull them.” Cora ordered as she starts to move the levers “Pull all of them”.

Lydia, copying Cora's lead, starts flipping the switches on the circuit breaker boxes. Stiles takes a step aside, giving them more room and whipping out his phone. 'Now' is all he texts Isaac.

And all of a sudden the room lit up, the industrial lighting overhead flickering dramatically to life.

But the question remained, was it enough to make a difference? Was it enough to save the pack?

\- - -

Just like the way down to the basement, the only way to reach Derek's apartment was back up the same set of emergency exit stairs. Stiles sighed as he resigned himself to more stairs, muttering internally about stupid werewolves and their inability to live anywhere actually inhabitable and easily accessible – like seriously, guys, what was wrong with a nice bungalow in the suburbs or something, what the actual hell?

Stiles knew that elevators were supposed to restart themselves automatically after a power cut – imagine the workload after a city-wide blackout for the poor technicians if they didn't – but Derek's elevator didn't look like it would be trustworthy on a good day. Plus, there was no telling whether the power would be cut by the Alphas again and he really didn't want to put “canned Stiles” on the dinner menu for tonight.

So the stairs it was. Stiles found some small comfort in that at least the apartment building wasn't taller – despite this comfort being slightly dampened by his constant thoughts of 'seriously Derek, why did it have to be the penthouse? What even is your ego?'.

Every noise echoed in the narrow space of the staircase so they heard others approaching before they saw them. They'd almost made it to the top of the final flight of stairs when they see Kali and the twins round the corner a few feet ahead of them, swanning down without a scratch on them. Kali leading the way at the head of the trio.

It almost looked like the two groups were going to get away with just ignoring each other and going their separate ways. They were almost level when Kali made a point of sneering threateningly at Cora and Stiles, flashing her alpha-red eyes and baring her fangs slightly. He isn't really sure how it was possible, given they were all packed in so closely in such a confined space, but Stiles' noticed Kali somehow managed to completely ignore Lydia, as if a female human was so weak as to be beneath her notice. So naturally, Stiles, Cora and Kali ended up participating in some kind of mexican stand-off in an emergency stairwell, Stiles internally lamenting every single action which brought him to this point. Because seriously, his life.

Ethan and Aidan, clearly not invited to Kali's 'threaten the Alpha's sister and the squishy human boy' party, shouldered past them roughly. So roughly, in fact, that Ethan's shoulder collided with Stiles', and he was almost knocked backwards down the stairs before Cora grips his shoulder instinctively to steady him.

Lydia is standing a few stairs below Cora and Stiles, so Stiles can't see her face as Ethan and Aidan pass her, but he's pretty sure he can make out one murmuring “I'm sorry” to her very softly, before hearing the two pairs of footsteps finally recede down the stairwell.

In all this time, neither Stiles nor Cora once broke eye-contact with Kali. Several more seconds pass. Stiles can hear that the twins are probably like a whole set of stairs lower now.

Stiles guesses enough time must have passed for her to achieve whatever she wanted to, because Kali's eyes bleed red one more, and she growls threateningly at them both - snapping her teeth in their faces. Then she grips the rail of the emergency stairs in one clawed hand, and neatly backflips over it, landing a storey down on a different flight of stairs.

He sighed to himself, because of course you can't have werewolf mexican stand-offs without pointless backflips.

Cora turned to Lydia, looking her up and down to check whether she was unharmed and largely unshaken. Seemly happy with what she saw, Cora narrowed her eyes at the redhead slightly, and calmly said “I told you so”, before flicking her long brown hair over her shoulder and flouncing over to peer down the stairwell, no doubt checking Kali was really leaving. Stiles really wasn't sure what Cora supposedly told her, but he's guessing it was probably about Aidan, judging by Lydia's 'fuck you, I do what I want' expression and the fact that Stiles knows for a fact Lydia had a thing for the (comparatively more evil) Alpha twin. Because if theres something Stiles Stilinski doesn't know about Lydia Martin, its really not worth knowing.

Giving a sharp shake of his head, as if to clear it of thoughts, Stiles began bolting up the remaining stairs. Cora, clearly satisfied Kali was really gone and not wanting to turn her back on the Alpha otherwise, began racing up the stairs to catch up to Stiles.

\- - -

Stiles is the first to make it to Derek's loft, Cora following only milliseconds behind him. The first thing he sees is Isaac curled protectively around Jennifer Blake – and okay, what the hell is their English teacher doing here? But he knows instinctively he doesn't have any time to really question that, because he knows something must be terribly wrong. Isaac is pale, expression pained and broken, and he looks like he's barely holding it together. Ms Blake looks frightened and vulnerable.

A second later he's rounding the corner of the entrance to the loft, and their expressions make horrible, terrible sense.

Boyd is lying spreadeagled on the floor, water bubbling and rippling around him. He is eerily still. No movement. No breath. And Stiles can see the blood, the gouges and claw marks in his shirt, in his flesh, and Stiles instantly knows there's no way Boyd is anything but dead.

Stiles is numb. He's no stranger to death, thats for certain. In fact, he's probably seen more bodies in his lifetime than most people, most cops even, see in their entire lives. Sure he thought of Boyd like a friend, but he knows that right now its the living now who are the most important to care for. At that moment, he lets himself acknowledge Derek.

Derek, who is hunched brokenly over Boyd's unmoving body. Derek, who looked like his heart had just shattered into a million pieces. Derek, who looked alone and vulnerable and horribly broken and not at all like the strong, sullen Alpha he was just hours ago. Who was all alone with nobody comforting him. Why was nobody doing anything? Why was Isaac not doing anything? Can Isaac not see that Derek needs him so much more than their English teacher does right now?

Suddenly Stiles felt like his entire vision was filled with the image of Derek hunching over Boyd's body, hands helplessly outstretched. Reaching for nothing. Shaking with anguish and grief.

He finds himself moving, slowly as if through a fog, further into the room towards Derek. Behind him, Cora's eyes flick to Boyd, and suddenly she's running, grabbing Stiles' shoulder and pushing past him in her haste. Stiles hesitates, wanting to see what Cora was intending to do. He didn't want to intrude on a family moment, and it certainly was not his place to interfere in the weird relationship the two of them have.

But Cora's whole body seems to be laser-focussed solely on Boyd. At first, Stiles is taken aback – the idea that Cora would run to Boyd when her brother was clearly in so much pain was completely incomprehensible to him. It only took a second, however, for him to realise that Boyd was trapped in the vault with Cora for what was probably months, that she probably spent more time with Boyd since returning to Beacon Hills than she did with her own brother. Stiles supposes her grief over Boyd makes sense – but at the same time he can't ignore the feeling that someone should be caring for Derek.

Before he can fully rationalise it, Stiles finds himself moving straight towards Derek with barely a second thought. As he reaches the center of the room, Cora is already leaning over Boyd, tears welling in her eyes as she cradles his head in her arms. Behind him, he's dimly aware of Lydia finally appearing in the doorway. Stiles doesn't take the time to dwell on Lydia, however. His entire being is focused on Derek, the kind of focus he normally only experiences just after taking his adderall.

You don't grow up as the Sheriff's son, or spend so much of your childhood hospitals, without picking up a few pieces of knowledge regarding shock. Stiles knew all the symptoms, had seen them before multiple times – usually from the squad car while his dad oversaw a crime scene or traffic accident. Right now he was staring right at a pale, clammy, weak Derek Hale and everything his father had ever told him about shock was roiling in his mind. He knew the first step was usually to check their pulse, but Stiles highly doubted that Derek would let him do that. He also doubted he could get the werewolf to lie down calmly and let himself be wrapped in a blanket. So Stiles did the only other thing he could think of: reassuring and comforting him – trying to keep him (relatively) calm until someone could think of something else to do to help the situation.

He moves to stand behind Derek, offering him comfort in the only way he can think of – the only way he thinks Derek would accept – by offering him wordless support and solidarity. He knows they definitely don't have the kind of relationship that means he could give him a calming hug, nor were they close enough for Stiles to crouch next to him and lay a reassuring hand on his leg. So he offers what he can, moving behind Derek and laying a firm, comforting hand on the man's shoulder. Stiles hoped that at least it might ground Derek a little, what they say about human contact healing those suffering from grief much more quickly.

For the first time, Stiles sees him in a different light. All this time, Stiles had assumed Derek was doing everything out of a desire for power. Hell, he'd even said as much in the past. But this grief, this level of emotion, this wasn't merely over the loss of power or strength. This was a deeper connection. Love. Family. So Stiles got to thinking that maybe he wasn't as much of a genius as he thought he was, if he missed something as big as that. That maybe even though not everything Derek does is perfect, even though he sometimes treats people bad, or screws things up, or is too terse, or hoards information like water in a drought, he still cares about them deeply. That maybe he cares about his pack, and possibly even Scott, just as much as he does Laura and Cora and the rest of his blood family.

Stiles began to feel some degree of empathy welling within him. Despite every arrogant, dismissive, thoughtless thing Derek had done, none of that was enough to deserve to lose his family twice. If Stiles was reading this right right, thats exactly what was happening to Derek. First Jackson leaving, then Erica dying, and now Boyd being murdered... He may be still kind of hazy where Isaac fits into all this, on whether his sudden attachment to Scott is related or just a coincidence, but one thing is clear: one is an incident, two's a coincidence, and three's a pattern.

He was about to open his mouth, to attempt to say something comforting, but his phone started to ring. Dragging the phone out of the pocket, he lifts his hand from Derek's shoulder and takes a step back. It's his father.

“Dad? What's wrong?” He says, by way of greeting.

“Stiles. I'm at the old First National Bank. Deaton's been found and rescued.” He hears his dad say.

Stiles lets out a sigh of relief. At least thats one problem solved. One person saved. One more day, one more sacrifice, before the Darach's plans can move forward.

“But,” the Sheriff continues, “Scott's here too, and he's not in good shape”.

Stiles feels himself breathing faster, louder.

“Son, don't worry okay, he's fine.. mostly. He's uninjured, just exhausted. Really did a number on himself trying to save his boss, thats all. You know Scott, its probably just the asthma”.

“Yeah” Stiles agrees unconvincingly, “you're probably right”.

“Look, I need to stay with Deaton until he gets a medical examination, and then possibly take him back to the station to get a statement. Can you come collect Scott? I don't want him riding that motorcycle in this condition”. Theres a pause, and then a suspicious-sounding “you are at home, aren't you?”

“Yeah, yes, dad. Course I'm at home. Where else would I be,” Stiles lies, complete with stereotypical halfhearted awkward laugh.

\- - -

It's dark by the time Stiles arrives back at Derek's loft after dropping Scott home. It has only been a few hours since Boyd had been killed – murdered really, Stiles thinks to himself. Stiles had helped Isaac and Cora move Boyd's body out to the woods when he left, before calling in the paramedics, who'd taken Boyd to the hospital where he was pronounced dead on arrival. Another victim in the long and prestigious line of Beacon Hills animal attacks, Stiles thinks bitterly. How unreasonable it was that would be his only legacy, that nobody would know how brave he really was.

Stiles and Isaac had tried to convince Derek not to stay at the loft, both knowing how painful and damaging it can be to have a constant physical reminder of the death of a loved one, worried about what it might do to him. But Derek had shut down, refusing to talk to them, or even listen, instead retreating upstairs and failing to emerge until they had gone. And Stiles really didn't have the time to argue with him. His dad would already be wondering what had taken him so long.

This time when Stiles enters the still waterlogged – but fortunately corpse-free - loft the first thing he sees is Derek, wearing only a henley and jeans, staring blankly out of the huge windows. His forehead was touching the glass, hand half-splayed, as though he were trying to sap strength from the inanimate surface.

Stiles approaches tentatively, unsure of what to do or how to act. Derek had been acting differently since the confrontation earlier. Sure, Derek had always been a broody loner, with his main expressions fluctuating between simmering rage and ominous silence. He'd never really known what he was doing, but he was always compensating with false bravado nonetheless. He seemed to be acting different now, somehow, like he didn't know what to do, how to act... like his whole world was crumbling and he no longer even knew how to pretend to fit into it.

Stiles, being Stiles, decided to approach the situation the way he does best. Clearing his throat and tamping down his nervousness, he took several steps into the room – towards where Derek stood.

“Well good to see you're sticking with the swimming pool idea after all”, Stiles quipped weakly, unthinking. Derek didn't respond, just tightened his fingertips' grip on the windowpane.“Right. Fair call. Probably too soon, right.” he half-laughed nervously.

Stiles took another step closer, standing only a handful of feet away now. “Look, dude, I just came to check on you, okay?” he said calmly, “we're all a little worried about how you're handling it all.”

Derek whirled to face him, eliminating the gap between them and forcing himself into Stiles' personal space, features twisted in anger and disapproval both. “You know nothing of how it feels,” he snapped, crossing his arms in front of his chest angrily.

Stiles stood his ground, refusing to be intimidated into backing down. “Actually, I do,” he countered. “I know exactly how it feels”. At that, his face changed, all raw sorrow and heartbreak instead of stubborn anger. Derek expression softened almost imperceptibly, and he took an almost-involuntary step back.

“My mother...” Stiles choked out, “it was my fault. If I hadn't been so...” He turned away slightly. trailing off. After a handful of seconds, he drew in a shaky breath and ran a hand anxiously through his hair while schooling his features back to a determined, if tremulous, scowl. “Look, this isn't about me though. This is about you.” he said, gesturing sharply towards Derek. “Because you know as well as I do you're our only decent shot of surviving this mess with the Darach and the Alpha Pack. And I need you - we need you - to be ready.”

“You need me?!” Derek spat. “What right do you have to demand things from me?”

“I think you'll find I saved your life.” Stiles retorted, “Multiple times, no less. Turnabout is fair play man, so I figure you owe me this one.”

Derek sighs, frowns, and turns back to the window. His back to Stiles once more, he grits out, “Look, you're all better off without me.”

Stiles huffs out a frustrated sigh, grabbing at Derek's shoulder and attempting to spin him back around. It was laughable, really, the idea that his mere human strength could actually force any movement in Derek at all. Sure, Derek actually did turn back around, but the boy was under no illusions that Derek shifted for any reason other than because he let Stiles shift him.

“Look, I know it seems like you're death's favourite chew-toy. I get that, I do. But the rest of your pack has been through at least some of that too,” Stiles argued. “Think of Cora, and Isaac. Both of them have lost family, lost friends just like you have. And I don't think they deserve their life expectancy to be drastically shortened just so you can sit here moping and playing the victim”.

Derek studied Stiles' face intently, taking note of the emotions etched there. Helplessness, frustration, desperation. But, he thought looking closer, there was something else hidden there too. A flicker of something concealed just under the surface. It was not solely a desire for Derek's assistance that brought him here. Derek began to feel frustration growing within him. How dare the teenager invade his space, disrupt his silence, expect Derek to be honest and open with him, and yet continue to deceive him right to his face.

“Why. Are. You. Here” Derek growled, resisting the urge to grab the boy and slam him into something in an attempt to intimidate him into answering. Its not as if it would likely work anyway, Stiles was infuriatingly difficult to intimidate lately.

“I already told you”, Stiles replied, “to ensure you help us fix this mess”.

“I'm not an idiot, Stiles,” said Derek, “Its more than that. I can tell that's not your only reason for coming here”.

Stiles' mouth twisted into a small, insincere smile. “It doesn't matter. Just... be around for your pack when we need you next okay?” With that, he stalked quickly out of the loft, closing the door behind him a little harder than was necessary.

Left alone in the loft again, Derek felt a faint glimmer of... something. Something he hadn't felt before Stiles' visit. Since when Cora was found alive even.

Did Stiles just insinuate he was pack?

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and critique appreciated. Also follow me at [becauseyouaremyalpha](http://www.becauseyouaremyalpha.tumblr.com) on Tumblr for way more fun.


End file.
